The enemy disposed of, the N. O. T. S. ship proceeded on its way. Plunging along, with all lights out, five days after its encounter with the submarine, the Henry was nearing the American coast. An outbound convoy, shrouded in darkness, was proceeding from New York. It was midnight, pitch dark, and before either the group going east or the single ship sailing west, knew of each other's presence, the Henry ran into the convoy. In a moment, before there was time even to switch on running lights to keep clear of the convoy vessels, the Henry crashed into the Herman Frasch, cutting into her well below the water line. The Frasch had received a mortal wound, and sank in a few minutes right under the bow of the Henry.
Three days afterwards, on the other side of the ocean, the steamship American collided with the Westgate, sending the Westgate to the bottom.
Sailors have a superstition that "luck runs in streaks," and it does seem so, for, with the hundreds of N. O. T. S. vessels running back and forth, only four were sunk by collision, and two of these accidents occurred within three days. Of the 450 vessels actually sailing for the N. O. T. S., only 18 were lost—eight were victims of torpedoes or German mines, four were sunk as the result of collisions, and six were lost from other accidents, such as fire or stranding.
One of these cases was the most mysterious thing that happened during the war—the disappearance of the Cyclops.
Sailing from Bahia, Brazil, the Cyclops, carrying a cargo of manganese, was bound for Baltimore. She was proceeding steadily, with no indication of any doubt as to her seaworthiness. Though she reported having some trouble with one of her engines, her captain felt confident that he could easily reach port, even if using only one engine might somewhat reduce his speed. On March 4th the collier put into Barbados, British West Indies, to take aboard coal for the rest of the voyage. While in that port, there was no indication of anything unusual. Among officers, crew and passengers there seemed to be no apprehension or foreboding of trouble or disaster. After coaling, she sailed away. Many persons saw her sail, other vessels hailed her as she passed out to sea.
After that no one ever saw the Cyclops again, or heard one word, or ever found any trace of her. Almost invariably, when a vessel is sunk, bodies of the drowned are found, and a mass of floating wreckage. But never a soul of all those on the big 19,000-ton collier, never a stick of wreckage or one thing from the lost ship was ever discovered.
The whole area was searched for weeks, scores of vessels joined in the hunt, rewards were offered for the discovery of anything concerning the missing collier. Nothing was ever found. She had disappeared completely, leaving not a trace.
In this connection this last message, the last word received from the Cyclops is of melancholy interest:
From: U. S. S. Cyclops, Barbados.
To: Opnav.